


The Smell of Strawberries

by A_z_0_9



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: First Dates, Fluff, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prompt Fic, keith works at bath and body works, lance always comes in and smells stuff but never buys anything, this is really getting away from me omg, very minor langst cuz i can't help myself sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-09 17:24:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11673702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_z_0_9/pseuds/A_z_0_9
Summary: based on a prompt from tumblr'You've been in Bath, and Body Works for hours everyday and all you do is smell everything'orz this gets away from the prompt real quick





	1. Chapter One of Possibly Multiple

**Author's Note:**

> prepare yourself for blushing!Keith and pretty!Lance
> 
> also sorry this is so short, it's 3:20am and I wanna sleep orz

Keith is restocking the soaps when the guy walks in. Keith doesn’t know his name, but he’s been coming to this Bath and Body Works every other day for almost two weeks now, and he’s never bought a single thing. All he does is walk around the store for about half an hour, taking his time to smell every product with a happy smile on his face.

 

He always closes his eyes two, long lashes fluttering shut as he smells a scented candle or something, and Keith can’t help being drawn to his open, tanned face and short, dark hair. When he opens his dark eyes and looks down at whatever he’s holding, Keith can’t help the way his heartbeat speeds up. He’s about Keith’s height, and Keith notices that he’s almost always wearing this worn green jacket with a white hood, always unzipped.

 

Keith watches as he stoops low to pick up a small bottle of lotion, holding it up to his nose for a moment before he places it back on the shelf with a smile.

 

_ Fuck, he’s gorgeous. _

 

None of Keith’s other coworkers seem to notice the regular who never buys anything, but that might be because Keith might have made sure he’s always working whenever he comes in.

 

“Keith, you’re staring.”

 

Well, maybe not all of them.

 

Keith turns to look at his manager Shiro with a frown but he can feel the heat on his cheeks already.

 

_ Shit. _

 

“I wasn’t staring,” he pouts, pointedly turning away from the mystery customer like he wasn’t watching him for the past five minutes.

 

Shiro just raises an eyebrow before he steps past Keith to help restock the shelf he’s conveniently forgotten about. “You know, you could always just talk to him,” he says. “I doubt he’ll yell at you like that one old lady last week.”

 

Keith scowls as he resumes stocking the shelf. “You don’t know that,” he grumbles, thinking back to the kind-looking old lady who’d thrown a fit when she couldn’t find a very specific scented hand sanitizer that the store has never sold before. Keith had been the target of her rage, unfortunately, and the mall security had to be called eventually because the lady refused to leave the store. “That lady looked innocent as fuck but she turned into a demon.”

 

Shiro and Keith shudder at the same time.

 

“Well, I think you should try anyways,” Shiro says after a moment of quiet. “I’ll be ready to call security if he starts yelling, if it’ll make you feel any better.”

 

Keith peeks up under his bangs as he reaches for more soap, scanning for the mystery guy.

 

He’s managed to get about halfway to the back of the store and he’s looking down at the body washes, facing away from Keith and Shiro. Keith watches as he reaches across to grab a bottle, then looks down and shakes his head.

 

“No,” he says, “at least, not today. Someday.”

 

Shiro smiles over at Keith as he picks up the empty box and starts walking away. As he passes Keith, he reaches out and pats him on the back strongly.

 

“Either way, one of these days someone’s gonna go over and tell him he has to buy something or leave, so I’d do it soon if I were you.”

 

Keith winces and glances back at the mystery guy, now slowly making his way through the shelves along the wall.

 

Shiro’s right, of course. Someone’s bound to notice mystery guy and say something, so Keith has to do something soon before he misses his chance.

 

But the thought of approaching someone like that and actually having to talk to him turns Keith’s stomach. He’s already terrible at talking to people in general, so having to talk to his crush will be infinitely worse.

 

He’ll do it sometime, but first, he’ll have to mentally prepare himself.

 

Keith sneaks one last peek at the pretty mystery guy, heart fluttering in his chest at the sight of his gentle smile, then turns away.

 

He’ll talk to him soon, but not today.

  
  


He’s there next Monday, right on time and with the same smile on his face. His jacket is draped over one arm, and Keith gets a very nice view of the tight blue shirt he’s wearing. He holds a phone in his other hand, and he’s listening very intently to whoever he’s talking to, even nodding along cutely at times.

 

Keith can’t hear what he’s talking about, he entered on the other side of the store, but he definitely hears his laughter, wild and raucous. Even if Keith wasn’t subtly watching, the smile on the mystery guy’s face can easily be heard in his laughter.

 

He hangs up with whoever he’s talking to and starts making his way through the store, and Keith gets reprimanded by the manager on duty that day for not working, but it’s worth it.

  
  


On Wednesday, he shows up again, but he’s not alone.

 

He’s brought with him a young girl —a younger sister?—whose hand he holds as they walk through the store. Keith watches him make faces at certain products, sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes as the girl laughs.

 

Halfway through, he lifts the girl up onto his back and carries her around obediently through the rest of the store, marching wherever she points with a mock serious expression on his face.

 

Keith has to rip his eyes away many times so his coworker Allura doesn’t notice, but she still gives him pointed looks every now and then, which he avoids looking directly at.

 

“He’s very cute,” Allura says casually once the mystery guy leaves, leaning against the counter Keith’s standing behind.

 

Keith chokes on his spit.

 

“What?” Allura asks innocently. “That’s what you think, right? That’s what Shiro told me.”   
  


“No!”

 

Allura looks at Keith for a long moment, unconvinced, as he fights a blush. Her eyebrows raise as she stares him down for almost a minute, before she hums and turns away.

 

_ Thank god. _

 

“You should ask him out,” she says cheerily, smirking at Keith before darting away from the checkout counter to help a confused-looking customer.

 

Keith chokes on his breath.

  
  


The mystery guy is there again on Friday.

 

He waltzes in at three with that smile again, and Keith has to do a double take because instead of that green jacket, he’s wearing a loose blue crop top that shows off his toned midriff, and dark short shorts that show off his long, lean legs.

 

Keith has to tear his eyes away so he can finish ringing up a customer’s order, turning his head down to hide his blush as he mumbles out the customer’s total. He completes the rest of the thankfully short transaction that way, fighting the urge to look at the mystery guy every step of the way.

 

When it’s finally over, he lets out a sigh and his shoulders slump.

 

Shiro just pats him on the back sympathetically, looking completely unashamed as he watches the mystery guy start going through the hand soaps.

 

“Hey, how about you try talking to him today?” he asks.

 

Keith groans and keeps his head turned towards the counter. If he looks up, he’ll just end up staring at the mystery guy forever.

 

He’s so fucked.

 

“Why not?” Shiro asks. “He looks pretty happy today, and who knows, maybe you can convince him to buy something so he doesn’t get kicked out.”

 

Keith scowls and turns away from the pretty mystery guy, crossing his arms as he leans against the counter.

 

“You know exactly why I can’t,” he grumbles.

 

Shiro sighs heavily and gives Keith a disappointed look before shrugging nonchalantly.

 

“Well, I guess I’ll have to do it,” he says, leisurely walking around the counter and starting towards the back where Keith assumes the mystery guy is. “Never thought I’d be the one playing matchmaker.”

 

“What?” Keith’s shoulders hike up and he whips around. “Shiro, no.”

 

Shiro glances back to give Keith a thumbs up as he makes his way over to the mystery guy.

 

_ Oh fuck. _

 

Keith can only watch in horror as Shiro lightly taps on the mystery guy’s shoulder, prompting him to turn around. Shiro makes a few ambiguous gestures as they talk, but he points over his shoulder at Keith towards the end, and the mystery guy peeks over his shoulder and looks over at him.

 

The mystery guy smiles and waves over at Keith, who blushes and awkwardly waves back. The mystery guy turns back to Shiro, who says something, and he laughs, nodding enthusiastically as Shiro takes his leave.

 

“I hate you,” is the first thing Keith says when Shiro moves to stand next to him behind the counter.

 

“After all I’ve done for you?”

 

“Yes.” Keith grits his teeth as the mystery guy resumes his browsing.

 

What did Shiro even say to him?

 

“How rude,” Shiro admonishes lightly. “Anyways, I’m taking my break now, so have fun.”

 

Keith scowls at Shiro’s back as he leaves the store, probably for some lunch date with Allura. He’ll enjoy teasing him about it later, he really will.

 

A customer clears their throat from in front of the counter and Keith turns, embarrassed at his inattentiveness.

 

It’s the mystery guy, directing a bright smile at Keith as he sets down a few items onto the counter.

 

“Hi!”

 

When Keith fails to respond in any way other than with wide eyes, he turns away to look at the small selection of candies sitting on a stand on the counter. He hums thoughtfully before selecting a chocolate bar and adding it to the small pile of items, and Keith notices his painted nails, bright purple.

 

Fortunately for Keith, his muscle memory is already in action, and scans and bags the items without having to think about it for a second. They’re all strawberry-scented.

 

He can’t help but try to sneak a peek at the mystery guy as he places the bag on the counter, but he’s already looking at him. His smile widens when they make eye contact, and he most certainly blushes for a moment before breaking it to look around the store.

 

_ Oh. _

 

“That’ll be sixteen thirty-seven,” Keith says, somehow managing to not stutter or sound incredibly rude.

 

The mystery guy fishes out the slim wallet tucked into the waistband of his shorts and produces a handful of bills. His hands brush against Keith’s as he passes over the money, a ten and a bunch of ones, and Keith tries not to think about it too much.

 

Halfway through counting the money, Keith feels the sharp corner of something that is definitely not a bill, and he pulls out a business card for one of the stores on the other side of the mall. On the back is a series of hastily-scrawled numbers and a smiley face in blue pen, smudged just a tad.

 

“Um, sir you —”

 

“It’s Lance,” the mystery guy says with a half-lidded smile. “And you can keep it.”

 

Lance grabs his bag from the counter and walks right out of the store without turning back, taking with him the faint but distinguishable scent of strawberries.

 

Keith is left frozen behind the counter with a wad of notes and a number in his hand.


	2. Pidge: the Voice of Reason and Encouragement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh I'm continuing this!!!!!
> 
> still not sure how much I'll be able to keep this up, but I'll do my best to keep going

“Do it now,” Pidge says as she pokes Keith in the side insistently. “Call now, just do it.”

 

Keith bats away her tiny hands and tightens his grip on his phone and the card, just in case she tries to snatch them from him and call herself. He tucks his knees up on the couch in their shared apartment just in case she tries anything sneaky, moving his hands between his thighs and his chest.

 

“It’s only been a day,” Keith defends weakly. “I can’t just call now, what if he’s doing something?”

 

Pidge stops jabbing Keith to give him a very unimpressed look. “Keith, you’re really smart but you’re being a dumbass right now. If you really don’t want to call this guy then just sent him a text or something.”   
  


Keith looks down at the smudged numbers in his hand and hesitates.

 

He really wants to talk to Lance, but his stomach does not agree with the sentiment. Texting will no doubt be much easier on his digestive system, but texts can be so ambiguous sometimes, and Keith is not a fast typer.

 

“C’mon, dude,” Pidge encourages, grabbing Keith by the shoulders and roughly shaking him around on the couch while he offers no resistance. “He’s totally into you, and  _ he gave you his number.” _

 

“That could’ve been—”

 

“It wasn’t an accident,” Pidge yells as she pushes Keith off the couch. “Text him or I’ll hack into your phone and do it for you.”

 

Keith’s eyes widen and he scrambles to his feet, cradling his phone protectively in his hands.

 

“No, don’t.” Pidge has been in exactly zero romantic relationships in her short life—not that she’s interested in them anyways—and Keith dreads thinking about what sort of thing she’d text Lance disguised by Keith’s number.

 

Oh god she’d probably say something really embarrassing about Keith or straight up as Lance out, or send him a really bad pickup line or joke, or—

 

“Then text him!”

 

Keith hesitates again and his heart skips a beat.

 

“But—”

 

“That settles it, I’m hacking your phone.” Pidge raises her hands in defeat and hops off the couch to grab her laptop from the table.

 

Keith darts in her path and blocks her, jumping in front of her every time she tries to go around him. He does this for almost two minutes before Pidge stops and gives him a hard look.

 

“Fine, I’ll text him,” Keith finally relents.

 

Pidge brightens up immediately. “Good! Do it now.”

 

She watches intently as Keith pulls out his phone and searches for Lance’s contact—he’d put it in as soon as he’d recovered enough to move his hands.

 

_ Ah, good times. _

 

Keith: Hey, is this Lance?

 

“How’s that?” he asks, tilting the screen towards Pidge. He’s not sure why exactly he’s asking Pidge of all people, but now his stomach is tensing and he needs reassurance before he chickens out (again). “Is it too formal? Too informal?”

 

“Keith, chill,” she says, peering closely at the screen. Before Keith can react, she reaches up and taps the send button. “You’ll be fine, and even if you aren’t you can’t take it back.”

 

Keith lets loose a long string of curses as he belatedly pulls his phone away. Pidge is already walking over to her laptop sitting open and hops up to sit on the table, pulling it onto her lap and starting to type.

 

“Pidge, what if he responds?!” Keith screeches. “I can’t talk to people!”

 

Pidge pushes her glasses further up on her nose and stares at Keith.

 

“If he responds, then you say something back. Ask him out or something.” The way she says it makes it all seem so simple and easy.

 

Before Keith can respond, there’s a soft ding from his phone.

 

“Shit, he replied,” Keith says.

 

“And what does it say?” Pidge doesn’t look up from her laptop as she continues to type, but Keith just knows she wants to know. “‘It is, who’s this?’ So now what I think you should do is—”

 

“You  _ did _ hack my phone!” Keith yells. He hasn’t even opened the text yet to see what Lance said, that’s so unfair.

 

Pidge grins and shrugs. “Never said I wouldn’t. I promise I won’t say anything for you, but you have to reply, like now.”

 

Keith opens the text, and yup, there it is.

 

Lance: It is, who’s this??

 

_ Oh fuck _ . Everything Keith knows about normal human interactions is thrown out the window in favor of panicking as he stares down at the text. Why are there two question marks? Was it a mistake on Lance’s part? Does it mean something? Should Keith know what it means? Is he committing social murder if he responds the wrong way?

 

“Shit, what do I say now?”

 

Fortunately—or not—for Keith, he gets another text before Pidge can give him whatever shitty advice she has that he’d probably listen to.

 

Lance: Wait is this Keith?? From the bath and body works at the mall???

 

“Say yes,” Pidge says from the table. “And quickly, before midnight.”   
  


Keith scowls over at Pidge.

 

Keith: Yeah, it is.

 

He breathes out a heavy sigh as he presses send on the text.

 

Pidge:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!
> 
> all of the chapters in this fic will likely be around this short, fyi  
> also shameless plug: I'm writing another(longer) fic, called in the core. check it out if you want


	3. Coran's Bowling Alley (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might've forgotten about this fic, sorry!!! orz
> 
> Anyways, here it is! I barely edited this because I just wanted to get it out before I forgot; I'm currently crying over season 3 and working on my other fic so this is later than I wanted it to be

Lance’s favorite place in the world is his hometown of Varadero, Cuba. It’s not just because of the hot sun, or the white sand, or that one really good pizza shack on the boardwalk, no.

 

It’s because when Lance steps outside, no matter where he is in town, he can smell the ocean.

 

The smell of the saltwater is entirely unique to Varadero Beach, filling his nostrils with a scent unlike any other: home.

 

Home is where the majority of his family is, where he got his first job, and where the majority of his old friends are. The smell of home is distinctly separate from the smell of Altea’s single beach. That saltwater smell feels different, new and full of potential but also intimidating. Home, on the other hand, is the comfy blanket Lance sleeps under regardless of the season, it’s his old, hand-me-down jacket he got from an older brother that he almost always wears, it’s the enchiladas Hunk sometimes makes for him when he’s missing it, just the way his mama made them.

 

Lance has never been to Altea’s beach. That beach is almost entirely unknown to him, because he refuses to go there. Sometimes, when he’s passing close by, he’ll inhale and his nose will fill with a scent he’s often mistaken for home, but just different enough that he can’t fool himself into pretending he’s there.

 

It’s on those days that he feels the most homesick, feels the strongest longing to go there, and see his family and all the people he left behind when he came to Altea.

 

Lance’s second favorite place in the world is the actual sea, for obvious reasons. The cool water is like a salve on his minorly-sunburned skin, and the gentle caress of the waves makes him feel like a child again, being rocked to sleep by the back-and-forth motions of the open ocean.

 

That’s when the smell of home is the strongest, filling up his nose and his head and his heart with peace and quiet, even on the stormy days. Underwater, he feels true peace and quiet, and even though he can’t smell home he can see the deep blue of the sea and know that he’ll be alright.

 

It’s where he spent his last day in Varadero, diving down as far he could and for as long as he could and letting himself be weightless once he reached that special depth just before the pressure would pop his ears.

 

When he was finally done, he stopped back home to see his family and say goodbye, then jumped into a cab to the airport, to go to Altea.

 

Lance’s third favorite place is now any place he can go that fills up his nose with scents and distracts him from the depressing amount of work he has to do at Arus College, particularly the Bath and Body Works at the mall.

 

The intense mix of different smells turns Lance’s thoughts to mush, white noise that sits on top of his thoughts and seeps into them like water into the ground. All he can do is take it in and let himself forget about his schoolwork. Nowhere else is that white noise more present than in that little store, and he makes sure to visit as often as he can.

 

He supposes he should’ve expected that he wouldn’t get away with it for long, but he hadn’t really been thinking about that when he first stepped in a couple months ago.

 

Of course, that all caught up with him when he was approached by that Arus alumni, Shiro.

 

He was one of the best to go to Arus, if not the best, and Lance remembers idolizing him when he first heard of Takashi Shirogane, one of the best fighter pilots of his generation.

 

Lance hadn’t even realized that he worked in that store, and in reality, he was pretty much a normal guy. He looked a little embarrassed when he told Lance that he had to buy something if he was going to keep coming to the store so often, and he’d pointed behind him to the checkout counter when he said it.

 

And standing there was probably the prettiest guy Lance has ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on. He couldn’t not make a move!

 

The best thing is that it worked! Lance now has a date with the cute guy who works at his favorite shop in the mall and he can’t wait. He’s been getting distracted with college stuff so he hadn’t been able to text Keith since they made plans to go bowling, and now it’s here already!

 

“How’s this one?” he asks his dorm roommate, holding up a blue plaid long-sleeve.

 

Hunk frowns and scratches his chin wisely as he examines the shirt. Then he breaks out into a broad grin and gives Lance a pair of thumbs up.

 

“That’s the one,” he says.

 

Lance grins back and pulls the shirt on, leaving the top two buttons undone and rolling up the sleeves to his elbows. He does a couple of quick poses in front of the mirror against the door before turning back to Hunk.

 

Hunk nods his approval.

 

“Yes! I’m gonna kill for this date.”

 

“Yup. Oh, I almost forgot!” Hunk walks over to Lance and hands him something. “Just in case he turns out to be a creep.”

 

“A taser?!” Lance holds the taser by a corner with two fingers and as far away from himself as he can. “Hunk, I don’t need a taser for a date. In a bowling alley. In public.”

 

Hunk reluctantly takes back the taser with a shrug. “What? He could be dangerous, Lance, it’s a Tuesday.”

 

“Well, there’ll still be employees!” Lance raises a hand in a placating movement as he opens the door. “I’ll be fine, Hunk, really.”

 

Hunk’s shoulders droop and he sighs in defeat. “Okay…”

 

“Thanks.”

 

And then Lance is soon on his way to Coran’s Bowling Alley, only a short walk away.

 

Lance: I’m on my way now, meet at the entrance?

 

Keith: Sure

 

Lance pockets his phone with a smile.

  
  


He sees Keith way before Keith sees him, leaning against the wall next to the front doors of the place. He’s in a cute cropped jacket and tight black pants, an extreme difference from the Bath and Body Works polo shirt and khaki pants.

 

When Lance gets closer and Keith sees him, he pushes off the wall with a timid smile, tucking his phone into a back pocket just as Lance sidles up to his side.

 

“Hey there,” Lance says, not bothering to hide his smile as they walk in.

 

“Uh hi.” Lance feels his grin widen at Keith’s shyness, and he wonders for a moment how he’d been brave enough to actually text him a few days ago.

 

They quickly pay for a lane towards the end and get their shoes, and Lance confidently leads the way over.

 

“So you’ve really never been bowling before?” he asks, flopping down into one of the chairs so he can put on the bowling shoes. “Not even when you were a kid?”

 

Keith shakes his head as he does the same. “No, I lived in the desert for a while before I moved here.”

 

Lance’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. The desert? No wonder he seems so shy. “What was that like? Did you have to drive four hours to get to a McDonald’s?”

 

Keith glances up at Lance with an unreadable expression.

 

“It was pretty boring. And my dad and I hunted for food and bought whatever we needed from the store two hours away.”

 

“Ah, no wonder you came to Altea then.” Lance throws his head back theatrically. “Altea’s got everything: it must’ve been weird when you first got here.”

 

“Uh, yeah.”

 

Lance carefully notes the way Keith keeps his head down as he finishes tying his shoes, and stands with an exaggerated stretch.

 

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now so I can crush you at bowling.” Keith snorts and Lance grins in victory. “C’mon, we can’t bowl without a ball.”

 

Keith ends up picking a bowling ball a little bit heavier than Lance, and Lance sets up the computer to display their names up on one of the screens overhead.

 

“Why is my name ‘Keif’?” Keith asks, squinting up at the screen in confusion.

 

Lance shrugs with a smile as he puts in his own name, spelled correctly. “I dunno, Keif, I guess I must’ve typed it in wrong.”

 

“Hey, you did that on purpose!”

 

Lance presses the start button before Keith can change it and moves over to stand next to Keith.

 

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.”

 

Keith’s shoulders jump ever so slightly, and he looks away, but not before Lance catches the light blush dusting across his cheeks. Lance isn’t doing much better, but he ignores the heat in his own face and nudges Keith to get him to look over.

 

“You’re up first, hotshot. Just roll the ball and try to hit down the pins at the end of the lane. You just have to stay behind that line.” Lance points to the black line at the start of the lane and Keith nods. “Use your middle, index, and thumb to hold the ball.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Lance watches intently as Keith’s eyebrows furrow in intense concentration and he moves up towards the line. His hand moves back and then forward with surprisingly good technique, and the ball rolls forward.

 

And straight into the gutter.

 

There’s silence while Lance and Keith watch the ball very slowly roll past the pins, and then Lance bursts out laughing. He keels over, clutching his stomach as the laughter just keeps coming out.

 

Keith is silent.

 

“H—holy crow,” he wheezes between giggles. “I thought you—I thought you’d actually do well with—with that oh my god that was—that was so bad!”

 

“This is my first time bowling!” Keith exclaims.

 

Lance finally gains some control of his laughter, but not much, and he straightens with a grin. “Yeah but you looked so focused! I was convinced for a second that you’d get like a strike or something insane like that.” He wipes tears from his eyes and looks over at Keith, which proves to be a mistake.

 

Keith stands with his arms crossed and an adorable pout on his lips. Even in the weirdly dim lighting of the bowling alley his face is clearly very red, and Lance feels his own face heat up as if in response.

 

“Whatever,” he grumbles.

 

Lance moves over to grab Keith’s ball—a fitting red—from the return and offers it as an olive branch.

 

“It’s fine, I said I’d teach you, right?” He smiles. “Here, you get to go one more time before it’s my turn.”

 

Keith’s face is still red when he takes his ball back, but he still returns Lance’s smile. He then turns back to the lane, and bowls again. This time, the ball gets almost halfway down the lane before dropping into the gutter, and Lance struggles to contain himself, much to Keith’s pouting.

 

“That—that was better,” Lance manages to say as he picks up his own ball. Keith watches the pins reset with a small frown, and Lance elbows him in the side. “Don’t worry, Keith. By the time we’re finished you’ll be great at bowling, trust me.”

 

Lance steps up and smirks at Keith as he adjusts his grip on the ball. He rolls out his right shoulder before he swings, making sure he has just the right amount of power and spin on the ball as he releases it. He stays in the same position and turns back to flash Keith a quick peace sign just as the ball hits the pins, smiling widely.

 

Keith blushes but smiles back, and Lance straightens to look back down the lane.

 

_ Oh, I didn’t think I’d do  _ that _ well after so long, _ he thinks.

 

All ten pins have been knocked down, and the pinsetter is sweeping them back off the lane.

 

Lance saunters back over to Keith to wait for his ball to come back, and crosses his arms nonchalantly.

 

“See that? Skill.”

 

Keith laughs out loud, and Lance grins hard enough to hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Part two of Coran's Bowling Alley will be out in a few days, probably at the same time as the next chapter of my other fic!
> 
> btw check me out @canderscene on ig or itsurboilanceylance on tumblr to chill(idk how to link things here orz)


	4. Coran's Bowling Alley (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit longer of a chapter(still really short) because I wanted to wrap up this date instead of drawing it out for more than a couple chapters, so enjoy!
> 
> (not proofread very well)

Keith and Lance end up playing a full game before stopping to take a break, but not before Lance takes it upon himself to add in the bumpers for Keith’s turn, claiming that he’s doing it for his own good as much as Keith’s. Once the bumpers are added in, Keith is finally able to hit a pin, which is nice even if the ball knocks off the bumpers twice before reaching the end of the lane.

 

Unfortunately, Lance takes the opportunity to coo and make faces at Keith on his turns, calling him a toddler and asking if he wants one of the children’s bowling ramps to assist him. Keith responds to that by putting the bumpers on all of Lance’s turns as payback, and even though Lance scowls and makes a comment about his hair, he still laughs in good nature a moment later.

 

Also unfortunate is the large margin between the final scores for their game. Even with the lack of gutterballs after the first few turns, Keith is woefully bad at bowling, although he does see a distinct improvement at the end of the game. It’s not much, but it’s there.

 

Lance throws his head back over one of the end seats with a moan of exhaustion, splaying his long legs out as he fans himself with a hand. Keith chooses to remain standing.

 

“Holy crow, I haven’t bowled in forever,” he pants. “Who knew bowling could be so tiring?”

 

Keith can’t help but snort at that, loosely crossing his arms and looking down at Lance (who isn’t actually sweating at all). “Maybe you’re just out of shape?” he suggests with a smirk.

 

Lance pouts—he actually  _ pouts _ —and continues to fan himself. “I’ll have you know I’m in excellent shape,” he grumbles without hesitation, keeping up the teasing banter with ease. “I swim every—well no, I have classes most of the week, and then chillin’ with Hunk and studying and doing homework—whatever! I swim during, uh, certain times, whenever I can! There.” Lance tilts his head up towards Keith with a smug look.

 

“Right,” Keith deadpans.

 

“I do!” Lance protests indignantly, sitting up in his chair to glare at Keith in mock anger. “I’m an excellent swimmer!”

 

“I’m sure you are.”

 

“If you don’t believe me, let’s have a race,” Lance suddenly proclaims, standing up and mimicking Keith’s crossed arms. “Our next date will be a swim race, and I’ll cream you just like I did today!”

 

Keith raises an eyebrow and hopes he comes off as calm when he replies. “Next date?”

 

Lance’s shoulders jump up to his neck and his entire face darkens into a deep blush.

 

_ Nailed it,  _ Keith thinks,  _ somehow. _

 

“Pft, no—I—well maybe, but— _ no! _ ” Lance continues to sputter as Keith shifts his weight onto one foot, a smirk slowly tugging at the corners of his mouth. He hopes Lance can’t tell that he’s blushing too.

 

“Uh huh. So, you don’t want a second date?” Keith asks this in a teasing manner, but he wonders for a second if he’s been misreading everything so far and Lance actually doesn’t want to go out again.

 

But Lance just looks away with another pout and mumbles a quick “maybe” as his blush extends all the way to his ears and down under the collar of his shirt.

 

There’s a long bout of silence between the two before Keith suddenly realizes that he probably should’ve said something by now. He clears his throat awkwardly and uncrosses his arms.

 

“Uh well, I guess that settles it then,” he says.

 

Lance smiles over at Keith. “I guess so. Hey, you up for some food? I think all this bowling has starved me and I think I’m dying.”

 

“Oh uh, sure.” Keith pats down his pockets for his wallet, but Lance waves his hands dismissively with another smile.

 

“Don’t worry, my treat!”

 

Keith locates his wallet and holds it up. “Aren’t you a college student though? Can you even afford this?” Is Keith spending Lance’s college money?

 

“Yeah, but it’s fine,” Lance says. “This—this is worth it, and it’s only a couple bucks. Just wait here for me, alright?”

 

Keith nods dumbly, wallet still proudly displayed in the air, while Lance slips away from the bowling lanes. He puts away his wallet before he looks stupid for any longer, and takes Lance’s seat. He watches as Lance trots past the other lanes, cheerily greeting an older man with bright orange hair before quickly moving on towards the smell of greasy food.

 

So far, things have been going well, much better than Keith anticipated when he was waiting for Lance outside the bowling alley. Actually, almost everything has turned out perfectly, not including Keith’s nerves when Lance showed up and that weird bout of silence less than two minutes ago.

 

They seem to have settled into a sort of light, teasing banter right away, which Keith suspects is mostly due to Lance’s theatrics and joking. Still, he’s enjoying himself a lot. His normal social faux pas seem inconsequential when he’s around Lance, who just laughs, cracks a joke he thinks is witty, and moves on. Lance, Keith realizes, seems like he was made for socializing and extroverted things, much the same way as Keith sometimes thinks he’s made for staying indoors 24/7 and subsisting on shitty ramen noodles.

 

“You must be Keith!” someone says cheerily. Keith jumps and looks up, where the same orange-haired man stands right in front of him. He hadn’t even noticed him approach.

 

“Uh, yeah,” he replies uncertainly.

 

The man tweaks his bright mustache between two fingers. “And you are on a date with Lance, yes?” Keith nods hesitantly. “Ah, I remember when I used to date,” he says. “I was quite popular with everyone, I do recall, but I was too busy to—”

 

“Hey Coran,” Lance yells from several lanes over, cutting straight through the start of the man’s sentence. The man in question—Coran, probably—doesn’t seem to mind the interruption, turning to watch as Lance skips over, carrying two disposable containers of some food in his hands. He trips lightly on the bump transitioning from carpet to glossy hardwood and yelps as he stumbles but somehow doesn’t fall. “I’m good, thanks for asking,” he says when he reaches Keith and Coran.

 

“Lance, my boy! I was just telling Keith about my days as a heartthrob.” Coran brushes off invisible dust motes from his shoulders and pops the collar of his shirt.

 

“Right, I remember that one,” Lance says, plopping down into the seat next to Keith and offering him a container of greasy cheese curds. Keith takes it gladly and mutters a quick thanks. “Didn’t they all call you ‘the beautiful dude’ or something?”

 

“Actually, I was called ‘Coran, the Gorgeous Man’,” Coran says pleasantly. “But my close friends just called me ‘The Coranic’ because I spent so much time helping my grandfather in his shop. You know, because it rhymes with mechanic?”

 

Lance laughs around a mouthful of cheese. “They’re not wrong there.”

 

“They aren’t,” Coran agrees. “Although, I’ve been considering a new nickname that fits my current occupation. Any ideas?”

 

Keith watches the conversation as he silently chews on his own cheese curds. He wonders how Lance even knows this eccentric man, and resolves to ask Lance sometime later.

 

“Hm, I dunno,” Lance says, thoughtfully scratching the back of his head. “‘Coran the Bowling Man’? No, that sounds stupid. ‘Coran the Alley Man’? No…”

 

Keith nearly chokes on his cheese curd.  _ What the hell? _

 

“I trust you will be able to come up with my next nickname? I must be going now, or I’ll be late for my pre-dinner snack!”

 

Lance grins and shakes Coran’s outstretched hand vigorously. “You know it, Coran. I’ll figure one out and spread the word in no time. Have a good pre-dinner snack.”

 

Coran pats Lance on the shoulder in an oddly familial manner before brushing past him in the direction of the alley’s entrance. Keith manages to keep his cool until Coran is out of hearing range.

 

“That was this place’s owner?!” Coran’s Bowling Alley. How did Keith not get that the moment Lance called out his name?

 

Lance shrugs. “Oh, yeah. Coran stops by here a lot, but the place runs itself basically, so he doesn’t have to do much other than hang around.”

 

“It was nice to meet you, Keith!” Coran yells from near the front doors. Keith jumps and turns to wave awkwardly to the older man, who disappears out the doors in a rush of cheerfulness.

 

_ Oh my god. _

 

Lance eyes Keith with a quirked eyebrow as he tosses the last cheese curd into his mouth. “Yeah, he’s kinda weird.”

 

Keith blinks. “Huh?”

 

“You said ‘oh my god’.”

 

“Oh, right, yeah.”  _ Why the fuck did I say that aloud? _

 

“Anyways, you up for another round? I’ve regained my energy and I’m ready to crush your mullet again.” Lance stands up and smirks down at Keith confidently, though he’s definitely blushing again.

 

Keith stands with a grin, setting the rest of his own food down on his seat before joining Lance in front of their lane. There’s no way he’ll be able to beat Lance, he knows, but he can most definitely pretend like he can. He looks over at Lance with a smirk of his own.

 

“You’re on.”

  
  


The second game takes much longer to finish and Keith still loses by an insane amount of points, but he’s more than fine with that. Lance takes his time on all of his turns, often choosing to finish a story or joke before he goes to bowl or retrieve his ball. Oddly enough, Keith finds himself doing the same, though he knows he’s anything but a talker.

 

Lance just seems to draw it out of him, effortlessly pulling him into the conversation without pushing too hard and always managing to say something so ridiculous that there’s no way Keith  _ can’t _ make a dry comment often. Even though his responses are short and sarcastic—and often considered rude—Lance doesn’t hesitate to fire back at him, especially in regards to Keith’s hair for some reason.

 

By the time they’re walking out of Coran’s Bowling Alley, Keith has heard at least five different stories about the antics of Lance’s various family members and has been teased about having a mullet at least ten times.

 

“Do you need a ride back to the dorms?” he asks as he heads towards the spot where he parked his bike.

 

“It’s not a long walk back to Arus, so I think I’m—”

 

Lance cuts himself off with an outraged gasp when Keith stops in front of his bike.

 

“You have a motorcycle?!” he screeches, running the last two feet to the red bike and peering at it closely. “Holy crow!”

 

Keith watches in amusement as Lance pokes at the handlebars carefully before stepping up to his bike and pulling out his helmet from the back compartment. “So? Still want that ride?” He pulls out his spare helmet and offers it to Lance.

 

“Um, heck  _ yeah _ !” Lance snatches the helmet before Keith can say anything else. “Oh my god, this is so cool, why didn’t you tell me you had a  _ motorcycle _ ?”

 

Keith shrugs as he puts on his helmet and gets on his bike. “You never asked.”

 

Lance pouts as he copies Keith, throwing a long leg over the seat and settling himself behind him. “Having a motorcycle isn’t something you ask about,” he lectures as he snakes his arms around Keith’s middle. “Saying you have a bike is like the first thing you should be saying to someone you meet. Priorities, Keith.”

 

“Sorry, I’ll make sure to tell people I ride a bike before I tell them my name,” he drawls, ignoring the rapid beat of his heart in his chest as he pushes up the kickstand.

 

He thanks whatever higher powers are out there that Lance can’t see his burning face underneath his helmet. He doesn’t seem embarrassed at all that he’s practically snuggling up to Keith, pressing his chest up against his back like it’s perfectly normal and not at all blush-inducing.

 

“There you go! No onward, my steed,” he commands, “giddy-up!”

 

Keith can’t help but smile as he guns the ignition and Lance yelps immediately, tightening his hold on Keith’s midsection while he pulls out of the parking spot.

 

The short ride to Arus College is for the most part silent, which is a nice change from the endless banter in Coran’s Bowling Alley (though that was unexpectedly fun too). The only time either of them speak it’s for Lance to direct Keith towards his dorm. Lance’s presence against Keith’s back and around his middle is warm and comforting, and even though Keith isn’t used to riding his bike with someone else, he finds that he wouldn’t mind if it was a longer ride at all.

 

They reach Lance’s dorm, a tall brick of a building with yellow light spilling from nearly all of the windows, and Lance hops off Keith’s bike with a wide grin. When he pulls off his helmet and then starts complaining about his hair being ruined, Keith can’t help but smile at the fading blush on Lance’s cheeks.

 

“—and I think I get why you have a mullet now,” he finishes with a sharp grin, handing Keith the helmet and fluffing out his own short bangs as if to gloat.

 

Keith smiles up at Lance as he puts the helmet away and pulls off his own helmet, so his vision isn’t impeded by the visor. “It’s a real tragedy,” he deadpans.

 

“Oh I know,” Lance agrees, nodding vigorously. Then, before Keith has the chance to react, Lance steps forward, leans down, and pecks him on the cheek. When he pulls away a moment later, his face is bright red, but he’s smiling widely.

 

Keith’s own face turns very red, and he opens and closes his mouth in a feeble attempt at saying something—though he’s sure his brain has been fried beyond recovery—but no words escape into the air.

 

“Thanks, Keith,” Lance says, still smiling, before he hops up onto the curb and practically skips into his dorm building. Keith is left sitting on his bike for a long time, trying to get his limbs to function properly.

 

As he’s pulling on his helmet and turning away from the building, he swears he catches the faint smell of strawberries.

  
  
  
  
  


Lance: You better get ready to be crushed in swimming next week!!!

 

Keith: I’m counting on it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it obvious I have no idea how dates actually work???
> 
> anyways, thanks for reading! constructive criticism and comments are very welcome!!!

**Author's Note:**

> what I'm really debating is whether or not I should continue this fic for a little bit....  
> on one hand, I really love fluff, esp klance fluff, but I'm also really bad at virtually plotless stories....
> 
> anyways, thanks for reading!! and let me know if you want me to continue with this or not


End file.
